Last revised December 6, 2016

Six days later, Eponine made her way back into the Gorbeau House, her feet cracked and bleeding from running from one side of Paris to the other and back. She winced with each step as she trudged her way up the stairs and stumbled through the door. Without a word, she collapsed against the wall of her hovel and began rubbing her tender soles.

"Well?" Monsieur Thernardier barked impatiently, marching up to her. "Speak, girl. Was it a success or not?"

Eponine scowled and dug into her pocket. "Here," she replied, holding out her loot. "Eight francs. And that's all the old man would give me."

Thernardier grinned at the sight of the coins and snatched them out of her hand. "Excellent, my girl, well done," he said, ruffling her hair. He grabbed his coat and headed toward the door. "I'll be back in an hour, then. Get the fire going, my love. We'll feast like kings tonight, that we will."

As the door shut behind him, Eponine turned to her mother and sister and rolled her eyes. They all knew by now if the Monsieur came back with anything that night, it'd be a bottle of brandy and a long list of excuses.

"Well," the Madame huffed. "While he's off gamblin' away our hard-earned spoils, how 'bout you filch us some vittles, girl?"

"Fine," Eponine grunted, massaging her toes. "Just give me a minute. My feet are still bloody raw from all this runnin' around."

"Ooh, well ain't you just the precious little princess today. Well, while yer sittin' there restin' yer porcelain feet, yer highness, 'Zelma and I'll just be witherin' away, starvin' to death about yer throne. Is that what you want?"

"If you're starvin' so badly, why don't you fetch your own vittles, you lazy cow?"

"Why, you selfish, good-fer-nothin little …!"

A violent cough from across the room brought their argument to a halt. Eponine turned to see little Azelma hunched over the pallet, clutching her chest and wheezing.

"'Zelma?" She crossed the room in an instant and placed a hand to her sister's forehead. "What's wrong? You sick?"

"Hmph, she's been hackin' like that all day," the Madame sniffed. "Just you wait. She's gonna pass it on to all the rest of us by the end of the week, the little pest."

Eponine shot the Madame a hateful look. Was this really the mother who used to hold her close to her bosom and sing her to sleep each night? How could the adoration she knew so well as a child have dried up so quickly in the face of loss and poverty? How could greed poison a mother so thoroughly that she could turn her nose up at the suffering of her own children?

"It's not so bad, 'Ponine," Azelma croaked. "Just a little cold. I'm … fine ..."

"'Zelma." Eponine rubbed along her sister's back and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Don't worry, wait here. I know where to get you some medicine."

"Medicine?" Azelma blinked up at her. "From him? From the boy who gave you that delicious bread?"

Eponine's eyes widened, panicked. "'Zelma, shhh!"

"What you two whisperin' about over there?"

"Nothin', Mama," Eponine answered. With a wince, she staggered to her feet and hobbled toward the door. "I'm goin' out."

"'Bout time," the Madame sneered, crossing her arms. "And bring me back some whiskey to wash the food down with, ye hear?"

"Oh, get some yourself!"

Eponine flew out the door so quickly she did not realize there was someone standing on the other side. She slammed directly into a teetering armful of books, nearly barreling over the handsome neighbor who bore them.

"Oh! M'sieur Marius!" she cried, quickly bending to retrieve the books that had toppled to the floor. "Pardon, M'sieur. I did not see you there."

Marius laughed. "Oh, that's alright, 'Ponine. Just put those back on top of the stack here, would you?"

The gamine nodded and held one book up for inspection. "Where you goin' with all these books, M'sieur? You can't be havin' any classes this late."

"Oh no, these are for my meeting with Les Amis."

"Oh?" She paged through one curiously. "What are they about then?"

"Oh, just military tactics," Marius replied with a patronizing smile. "Not the sort of thing you would understand, 'Ponine."

Eponine frowned at him. Why did Marius always have to treat her like a child? Or act like he was so much smarter than she'd ever be? Military tactics, eh? Eponine could confidently say she'd seen more violence in the past year than Marius had ever seen in his entire lifetime. Perhaps she herself could teach him a thing or two about so-called military tactics.

"And what about you, 'Ponine? Where are you off too so late?"

"Oh, just fetchin' some dinner, M'sieur. And then I'll be droppin' by M'sieur Joly's place to see if he can spare some medicine for 'Zelma's cough."

"Oh, Joly wouldn't be home now, 'Ponine. He's at the Cafe Musain along with all the rest of Les Amis."

"Oh?" Eponine's eyes twinkled. "Well, in that case, M'sieur, we may both be headed to the exact same place. So ..." She sashayed up to him. "How 'bout we walk together?"

"Hmmm." Marius looked up thoughtfully. "Yes, that does sound like a fine idea. Say! Will you do me a favor?"

"Anythin', M'sieur."

"Carry these books for me, will me?"

"What … oof!"

Before Eponine could protest, the whole heavy pile of books was shoved into her arms and she staggered beneath its weight.

"Ah, that's better!" Marius exclaimed, starting towards the stairs. "Merci, 'Ponine! And watch your step on the stairs, alright?"

Her face reddening, Eponine ducked her head and grumbled, "Coming, M'sieur."

"Oh no! Bossuet, look! My hands are shaking again!"

"Your hands are always shaking, Joly."

"But this is different! It has to be a symptom of something. And just this afternoon I checked my tongue and there was a sore on it, Bossuet! A sore!"

"That doesn't mean anything, Joly."

M'sieur Joly was having a very bad day.

First, he was convinced that his chin was infected. The remaining bruises had taken on a ghastly green tinge he was certain indicated the onset of some form of blood poisoning. ("No it doesn't, Joly," Bossuet had groaned.) Since then, the telltale symptoms set in throughout the day – clammy skin, shaking hands, shallow breath, dry mouth. ("You're just being paranoid, Joly," Bossuet had sighed.)

Second, his darling Musichetta was sulking again, and for the life of him he could not figure out why. He'd just visited her that morning and the whole time she just stared the floor with a dour expression, refusing to look at him. She'd been like that all week, really, either giving him the silent treatment or whining in that pitiful way of hers of how little he loves her. Perhaps it was simply that time of the month. He hoped that was the case, because he was fairly certain he had done nothing to upset her.

And the final nail in the coffin was that Joly was receiving no sympathy whatsoever from his so-called friends of Les Amis. They laughed when he lamented about his infected chin and rolled their eyes when he moaned about Musichetta. He was the butt of everyone's jokes tonight. Grantaire and Courfeyrac had even been amusing themselves by taking turns sneezing in his drink, which they know he hates. He had just finished dumping out his latest cup when Eponine came stumbling through the door.

Joly did not even recognize it was her at first. All he saw was a walking pile of books staggering after Marius. Then the books slammed down onto the table and body behind them flopped onto the nearest chair with a grunt. All at once that familiar russet hair and irritated scowl came into view.

"Eponine!" Joly exclaimed. "'Ponine, hey!"

The gamine glanced up and smiled tiredly. "Bonsoir, M'sieur Joly."

His joy upon seeing her evaporated as he watched her wince and rub her reddened feet. He glanced at the book pile and turned toward the student to whom they belonged, who was chatting up Feuilly and ignoring Eponine completely.

"What … Marius!" he cried loudly. "You made her carry your books for you? For God's sake, she's not your slave!"

Marius spun around, startled, as a hush fell over the cafe. "Oh, I … I didn't make her do it, Joly. We were both on our way here and I needed some help, so ..."

"She's a lady, Marius! You don't ask a lady to carry your books for you. Have you no manners, man!"

The other students gaped in astonishment, unaccustomed to seeing such ire from their typically happy-go-lucky comrade. But when they beheld the ragged little guttersnipe sitting behind Marius' books, some began to snicker and roll their eyes. A lady, indeed!

"W-well," Marius stammered. "I guess you have a point." He walked up to Eponine and patted her shoulder. "Sorry about that, 'Ponine. And merci, again."

Eponine gave a half-smile that did not touch her eyes. "Don't mention it, M'sieur."

"And here," he added, reaching into his pocket and setting a coin on the table. "A little something for your trouble."

Eponine's face fell. "M'sieur, I don't want your ..."

But Marius had already turned around and resumed his conversation like nothing of importance had occurred.

"Um, 'Ponine?" Joly whispered, walking up to her as the other men resumed their banter. The gamine slowly turned to him, forlornness stark in her brown eyes. He tried to smile at her reassuringly. "Here." He pulled a small container out of his purse and handed it to her. "It's some salve for your feet. It'll sting a bit at first, but then you'll feel relief."

Eponine weighed the container in her hand. How did the boy always know what she needed? Not once in the long walk between the Gorbeau House and the cafe had Marius even noticed that her feet were hurting. She looked up and gave the boy a grateful smile. "Merci, M'sieur Joly."

Joly grinned in return, gratified that he had pleased her.

"Hey, Joly!" Grantaire called from the back table. "You sly dog. Cheating on 'Chetta now, are we?"

Joly swung around, his cheeks hot. "N-n-no. I-I'm not cheating on anyone. Eponine here is just a friend."

"Ohoho, right." Grantaire rolled his eyes. "I forgot. It's not cheating. It's being pol-y-a-mo-rous, right?" At that, his whole table roared with laughter.

"Just ignore them," Joly whispered, turning back to Eponine. He nodded at her foot, which she'd already begun coating with the salve. "How does it feel?"

Eponine let out a contented sigh. "Much better. Merci."

"My goodness, 'Ponine. Don't you own a pair of shoes?"

"No. Well, none that's good for walkin' in, anyway."

Joly's eyes softened in sympathy. "And how about the lice?" he asked in a carefully lowered voice. "They haven't been bothering you again, have they?"

"Nope. Not since I saw you last. Say, M'sieur … would you happen to have anythin' for coughs in that purse of yours?"

"Coughs?" Joly's eyebrows drew together in concern. "You're not sick, are you, 'Ponine?"

"No, not me. My sister Azelma. She came down with it this morning and … I was hopin' if you wouldn't mind sparin' just a little ..."

"Oh, of course! Of course I could spare some medicine for you. Unfortunately, I don't have any with me right now. But if you want, you can come back to the apartment with me to get it after the meeting's over."

Eponine's smile widened. "Merci, M'sieur."

Without thinking, Joly reached up to ruffle her hair."And then I can check to make sure all those nasty lice are truly gone, eh?"

Eponine instantly jerked back, fixing him with a glare that wasn't quite angry but reproving all the same.

"Oh, s-sorry," he stammered, withdrawing his hand. Eponine just rolled her eyes and went back to rubbing in the salve. A whistle erupted from the back table and Joly turned to see his friends snickering at him, their eyebrows dancing suggestively.

Joly shook his head and turned his gaze back to the gamine, whose eyes were fixed on the feet she rubbed with the salve. The light of the table lamp accentuated her features, and Joly could clearly see the vestiges of the beauty she could have been had her life turned out differently. The slight tinge of rosiness in her dirty, sallow complexion. Those elegant cheekbones hidden behind weathered skin. Those deep eyes that shone like pools of water, drooping from the heavy weight of suffering. Where others saw ugliness, Joly saw intrigue. What others would consider abrasive, he found quite adorable.

"You are far too generous for your own good," his friends often told him.

Footsteps came from behind. Joly turned to see Enjolras glare down at Eponine with Marius standing next to him. The marble leader cleared his throat loudly and the gamine's head to jerk up in surprise.

"Mademoiselle," he said stiffly. "Pardon, but I'm afraid I must ask you to leave."

Eponine's eyes narrowed. "Yeah? And why's that, M'sieur?"

"This is a meeting of Les Amis de l'ABC and it is strictly closed to women."

"What?" Eponine choked, surging to her feet. "What kind of stupid rule is that? My brother's sat on plenty of your little meetings. If a child can come, why can't I?"

"Forgive me, Mademoiselle, but the matters we discuss are only for the ears of those devoted to our cause ..."

"No, that's not what you said, M'sieur. You said I couldn't stay because I'm a woman. How is that fair, huh?"

"Now, just calm down, 'Ponine," Marius said, stepping forward. "No need to get all worked up. We're just going to be talking a lot of political nonsense, anyway. Most of it would probably fly right over your head ..."

"Oh, stop it!" Eponine shrieked as the cafe went into stunned silence again. She grabbed one of the books and angrily waved it in Enjolras' and Marius' face. "I ain't stupid! I know more about wars and violence and fightin' than all you fancy, rich bourgeois boys combined. I could've been a student just like you if my life didn't go to hell like it did. There's lots of things I know, so quit treatin' me like I'm stupid!"

Marius' face blanched. "I-I'm sorry, Eponine, I didn't mean to make you feel stupid..."

"Oh, just forget it." Eponine slammed the book onto the table and swung toward the door. "If you don't want me here, then I'm goin'. Au revoir, M'sieur."

"Eponine!" Joly ran forward and reached for her elbow. "Eponine, wait ..."

"Don't ...!" The gamine swung her arm out but stopped when she saw who it was. Her eyes held Joly's for just a second, flickering with hurt. But then her face hardened and she turned away. "I'll see you later, Joly."

The slam of the door rang out through the silent cafe. The members of Les Amis glanced awkwardly about, not quite sure what to make of what just happened.

Then Grantaire slammed his fist down on the table and let out a roaring guffaw. "Mon Dieu! What is with you and moody girls, eh, Joly?"

Joly was the last man to leave the cafe that night. He would have walked home with his friends as usual, except Madame Hucheloup stopped him on the way out and begged him to please, please, please check the goiter on her neck first. After a thorough examination and an affectionate kiss to the good Madame's neck for good measure, the exhausted medical student ventured out into the dark streets alone.

He'd never admit it to anyone, but Joly was terrified of walking through Paris at night. There was simply no telling what lurked in the shadows of the city, and if any villanous characters were to strike, he knew he'd be completely at their mercy. Not that you'd be able to tell right away just how afraid he was by how he strolled along, humming a happy, high-pitched tune. But he jumped at every sudden noise and shivered at every breeze, so any observer would quickly realize that he was humming to keep himself from going crazy.

It's hard to say when exactly Joly realized he was being followed. He was just passing under the shadow of the elephant statue when he came to a stop in the middle of the empty street. His humming died off and for a moment he swore his heart quit beating as he sensed the presence of another being in the vicinity.

Then … he couldn't say for sure how, but he knew. He turned toward the elephant's right flank with a relieved smile.

"Eponine?"

She emerged as a shadow, her footsteps soundless. She sauntered over to him, not seeming at all angry or surprised she had been caught. "Nothin' gets past you, does it, M'sieur."

Joly laughed. "Not much, no." He glanced down. "How are your feet?"

She shrugged, lifting up one heel. "Not so bad anymore. Merci."

"Good heavens, you haven't been waiting for me this whole time, have you?"

"No, 'course not. After I left the cafe, I went out and got some food for 'Zelma and my Mama. Then I came back here."

"Well … I am very happy to see you, 'Ponine. Although I sort of expected you'd have walked home with Marius."

Eponine's jaw ticked. "Yes, well … I think I'm still a little bit angry with him, actually." Then she shrugged. "Anyway, I still need that medicine for 'Zelma, so ..." She stepped past Joly and started toward the end of the street. "Shall we walk together, M'sieur?"

It took Joly a moment to respond. "Y-yes! Of course, 'Ponine," he said, stumbling after her.

The gamine smirked as he fell into step beside her, a gesture which he found utterly endearing. He resisted the urge to take her by the arm and lead her home like a proper lady. But he knew she wouldn't want that, and he was conscious enough to maintain a comfortable space between them. While he was beyond pleased by how much friendlier she regarded him now, he was quite aware the trust he'd gained with her was still fragile and uncertain.

"I forgot to thank you, M'sieur," Eponine said after a moment.

"Hm? Thank me for what, 'Ponine?"

"For tellin' Marius off. And for standin' up for me. You really didn't have to do that."

"Oh." Joly chuckled. "I would have thought you'd be angry at me for that."

Eponine shook her head. "Nuh-uh. He most definitely deserved it."

Joly looked at her in astonishment. "Well … you're welcome, 'Ponine. I mean, someone had to say it. Because despite what some of those spoiled snobs may think, you are a lady, and you deserve to be treated as such."

Eponine picked at her dress and did not answer.

"And try not to be too angry with Marius. He's a good man. His heart is certainly in the right place. But he's so naive. Out of all of us, he's probably lived the most sheltered life. And he tends to be blind to other people's feelings."

"I know," Eponine answered quietly, closing her eyes. "And … I suppose eventually I'll be forgivin' him again. Like I always do."

They walked on in silence until they reached the bridge overlooking the Seine, upon which Eponine suddenly rushed over to the railing with eyes alight. "Ooh, M'sieur! Can we stop here for just a moment?"

Joly came up behind her. "Um, alright. What are we looking at, 'Ponine?"

The gamine giggled, resting her chin on her arms. "Oh, just the view, M'sieur Joly."

"...Oh."

Joly followed her gaze toward the river below, where the reflected lights and shapes danced upon the dark waves. He took his place beside her, leaning so that his elbows rested on the railing. Yes, the view was eerily lovely. Like an impressionist painting in motion. Like a galaxy of a dozen golden suns bobbing in a sea of scattered stars.

"Pretty, ain't it?" Eponine said wistfully. "It's almost like there's a whole 'nother Paris down there. A much lovelier Paris. Because it's all light. A city made all out o' light." She sighed. "Much like Heaven, I suppose."

Joly gazed at Eponine, mesmerized by the way the glow from the bridge lamps wrapped about her like a halo. The reflected light from the water below danced within the brown pools of her eyes. And when she smiled, she looked … beautiful. The characteristic hardness in her face seemed to melt away beneath the light, revealing the girl that still lay beneath. In that moment he remembered how very young she really was. Suffering had aged her body long before its time, but in the lamplight she appeared reborn. Like an angel come up from the depths of this strange Heaven of which she spoke.

"I've thought of goin' there before, you know?" she said.

Joly blinked. "What?"

"I've thought of goin' down there." She pointed. "To the prettier Paris."

As her words sunk into his mind, dread sunk into his stomach. "W-what do you mean by that, Eponine?"

The gamine just stared down into the water quietly for a moment. Then she turned away from the railing. "Let's keep walkin', M'sieur."

Joly stood there frozen for a moment before stumbling after her.

"T'is a lovely, warm night, isn't it?" Eponine mused as he caught up with her. "My family used to live under this bridge, you know."

"Y-yes, Marius did mention that."

"Hm. That was in the wintertime, though. It was dreadfully cold. I really wouldn't have minded it if the nights were all warm like this." She looked up at the sky. "Too bad there's no stars. I think a storm's comin'."

Joly let out a nervous laugh. "Oh, I certainly hope not, 'Ponine."

"Oh?" The gamine halted mid-step. "Do you not like storms, M'sieur Joly?"

Joly laughed again, this time shakier than before. "N-no, not particularly. You?"

"Oh, I love them," Eponine said with a grin.

"Oh … do you."

"Yes, I think they're great fun."

Just then, a wind swept over the bridge, lifting up Eponine's hair and skirts. Her eyes lit up and she laughed.

"Well, look at that! What did I tell you? It'll start thunderin' soon, just mark my word."

And just as she said this, a brilliant white flash lit up the dark clouds overhead, making Eponine squeal in delight. She turned to Joly, her grin faltering when she saw his face had turned the color of ash.

"M'sieur?" She cocked her head and stepped closer to him. "Mon Dieu. You weren't kiddin', were you. Are you really so afraid of a little storm?"

And then an echoing boom resounded across the water like a cannon's blast, causing Joly to gasp. He grabbed Eponine by the wrist and cried, "'Ponine, we've got to go. Now!"

The gamine squeaked as he broke into a dash, dragging her along behind him. The wind howled about them as they stumbled through the Parisian streets, halting every so often whenever lightning flashed once more across the sky. Once they reached Joly's building, the boy shoved her rather roughly through the front door and yanked her up the stairs, ignoring her shouts of complaint. They never stopped moving until they had both stumbled into the room and slammed the door shut behind them.

"M'sieur!" Eponine cried as Joly released her wrist and ran straight to his chair. He hunched over it and gripped both arms with all his strength as she continued to yell. "Joly! What in God's name ..."

"P-please, 'Ponine!" Joly rasped, holding up one finger. "Please, just … just give me a moment. Please."

Confounded, Eponine sagged against the wall and rubbed her aching wrist. She watched as Joly lifted a trembling finger to the side of his neck, fiddling in his pocket with the other hand until he pulled out his pocket watch. He held it up and counted to himself in shaky whispers for about a minute. Then, he hung his head with a long exhale.

"Alright … alright, I'm fine now," he breathed. He turned to Eponine and cracked a tremulous smile. "Sorry, 'Ponine. Are you okay?"

The gamine gaped at him. "Am I okay? What is bloody wrong with you?"

Joly chuckled sheepishly and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah. Sorry you had to see that. I just … I don't really like thunderstorms all that much, 'Ponine. That's all."

And then at that very moment there came a thunderclap so powerful that it seemed to shake the very foundation of the building. Joly froze, the blood draining from his face as white light exploded from the window beyond.

"Hey ... M'sieur?" Eponine whispered when the boy did not move for several seconds. She stepped forward and carefully grasped him by the hand. "M'sieur," she tried again, giving him a little shake.

But the boy was not breathing, Eponine realized with a panicked gasp. "Hey!" she cried, grabbing him by the elbows and shaking him hard. "M'sieur! Snap out of it! Hey! M'sieur Joly!"

Then the boy gasped like a drowning man coming up for air. He turned to her, his face white, his dilated pupils seeming to stare right through her.

"Oh, Mon Dieu," Eponine muttered, feeling him quiver within her grasp. "Come on, M'sieur. You need to sit down."

Pressing a hand to his back, she led him to the chair as his feet dragged along the floor. With a grunt, she shoved him into the seat and knelt down beside him. "M'sieur Joly. Can you hear me? For God's sake, say somethin'!"

Light exploded through the room with a mighty crash, followed by the slamming of the wind and the furious cadence of rain. Joly screamed and curled up into a ball on the chair, rocking back and forth with his head buried between his raised knees.

Eponine gaped at him in disbelief. "M'sieur ... you can't be serious. Are you really so scared of a little thunder and rain?"

Another thunderclap boomed. The boy jumped with a high-pitched squeak. He grasped at his hair and began to whimper like a child.

"M'sieur, just ... calm down," Eponine whispered, rubbing his arm. "We're inside. The storm's outside. It can't hurt us in here."

"You don't understand." Joly lifted his head, revealing bloodshot eyes. "The thunder, Eponine! It ..."

Lightning flashed and his head disappeared once more into the shelter of his knees with a cry.

"For God's sake, M'sieur." Eponine turned toward the window, listening to the pouring rain. She stood to her feet. "Look, you're gonna be just fine, okay? Now I best get goin' before the rain comes down too hard ..."

"No!" Joly's hand shot up and grasped her by the wrist. He stared up at her with wild, pleading eyes. "Don't go, Eponine. Please don't go!"

"M'sieur, I must!" Eponine insisted, struggling to free herself. "I can't stay here. I've got to get home."

"No! You can't go out there. You could be killed!"

"For God's sake, M'sieur, a little rain can't hurt me."

"No, but lightning can!"

Thunder crashed, making the floorboards shake beneath them. Joly yanked Eponine down so hard she fell to her knees onto the carpet. "Ow! M'sieur!"

"Please!" Joly gasped desperately. "Please, Eponine. Don't go. Just stay with me. Talk to me. Distract me. Do anything. Just please don't go out there, please!"

Eponine stared back at the boy hopelessly. His ragged breaths filled her ears, his crazed eyes pierced through her own.

"M'sieur ..." Her eyes fell closed with a sigh. No, she couldn't just leave him like this. He was clearly on the verge of a nervous breakdown. She placed a hand on his quivering shoulder. "A-alright, M'sieur. Calm down. I'm stayin'. Alright?"

Joly's eyes fluttered shut, a sigh of relief shakily exiting his lungs. He squeezed her wrist once. "Oh, thank you, 'Ponine ... thank you ..."

As he pressed his face against his knees once more, Eponine squirmed uncomfortably and looked about the room as if seeking help. Great, just great, she thought. What am I supposed to do now?

More lightning flashed, one after the other. Joly squeezed Eponine's wrist so hard she almost yelled out in pain.

"Oh, for pity's sake! Why are you so scared of the lightnin', anyway?"

"B-because ..." Joly flinched at the next booming crash. "It's deadly, Eponine! People get killed from lightning strikes."

"But we're inside, M'sieur."

"But they're still out there! I-I can see them, Eponine. Even when I close my eyes!"

"Then … don't think of 'em as lightnin' bolts. Think of 'em as … fireworks. Big, white fireworks. You have to like fireworks, right, M'sieur? Just imagine it's New Years and they're lightin' fireworks in the sky."

More thunder rolled. Joly let out a muffled whimper, but his trembling seemed to slow a bit. "Fireworks ..." he mumbled.

"Yeah, that's how I always told Gavroche to think of 'em. He used to be scared of lightnin' storms too." She chuckled. "I know. Hard to believe, ain't it. Don't tell him I told you, but he used hide under his bed and cover up his ears and sing to himself so he couldn't hear the thunder. But that was when he was really little. Now he loves the storms just like I do."

Another flash of lightning burst through the room. Joly squeaked, but did not jump like he did before. Eponine took that as a good sign and kept on talking.

"You know, I honestly can't remember a time when I was afraid of storms. I used to imagine the angels up there were havin' a great big sword fight in the clouds. I'd imagine the thunder was the sound of their swords clashin' together and the lightnin' was the sparks flying off o' their blades. Silly, ain't it?"

Thunder rolled off into the distance. Joly squeezed Eponine's hand lightly.

"I used to sneak out and go runnin' off into the woods behind the inn whenever there was a big lightnin' storm. I know now it was dangerous, but I wasn't scared ever. I just loved watchin' the lightnin' zigzag its way across the sky. I'd sit there in the mud in my pajamas for hours, watchin' the trees light up and the branches thrash over my head and the leaves come flyin' down on top of me. It was like the best show in the world. E'en better than the circus." She laughed. "'Course, my maman would get furious at me. One time she caught me sneakin' out and she dragged me back into the house and laid her rollin' pin over my bum. Ha! It was worth it."

When lightning flashed again, the boy did not move. Eponine turned and shook her wrist. "M'sieur? Hey, are you better now, M'sieur Joly?"

The boy's head fell back with a heavy snore. Eponine gaped at him. What the … he's asleep!

She looked down at her wrist - it was still held tightly within his grasp. And no matter which way she shook it, it wouldn't budge. She grunted as she tried to pry his fingers open, his loud snores continuing to fill her ears.

Are you bloody kiddin' me? she thought. How can his grip still be so tight when he's asleep?

"Don't go."

Eponine froze at the boy's sudden moan. His eyes were still squeezed tight, but his brow furrowed.

"Don't leave me, Maman," he whimpered.

Maman? He's dreaming about his mother?

"Maman ..." The boy's face twisted as if in pain. "Maman, please don't leave me."

"I ..." The gamine quickly laid her hand on top of his, shushing him. "Shhh. It's alright … Joly. I ain't leavin' you."

"Maman." Joly let out a long, happy sigh. Peace washed over his features, making him look like a sleeping child. "Oh, Maman."

Eponine's chest throbbed, envying that this boy could have nothing but happy memories to comfort him in his dreams. Even in her own dreams, she could never turn to her mother for succor now. Not now when she knew just how fickle her love truly was.

"Maman." Joly squeezed her hand. "Please sing me a lullaby."

Eponine stared at him dumbly. A lullaby? She couldn't really remember any lullabies.

Well ... except for that one. That one she used to sing to herself on those cold nights when the hunger pangs wouldn't let her sleep.

But it'd feel so wrong to sing that song now. Like every other pretty thing left in her life, that tune had been stolen.

"Maman … please," the boy whined.

Sighing, Eponine rubbed her thumb over his. Well, she couldn't think of anything else, so she might as well. She took in a breath and began to sing.

"There is a castle on a cloud.

I like to go there in my sleep.

No filthy streets through which to creep.

Not in my castle on a cloud.

There is a room that's full of food.

There are a hundred boys and girls.

Nobody shouts or talks too loud.

Not in my castle on a cloud.

There's a M'sieur who's all in white,

Holds me and sings a lullaby.

He's nice to see and he's soft to touch

He says, 'Ponine, I love you very much..."

Her voice trembled on the last words. With a tired sigh, she laid her head against the arm of the chair and let the sound of the rain lull her into the final verse.

"I know a place where no one's lost.

I know a place where no one cries.

Cryin' at all is not allowed ..."

She let out a yawn and her eyes fluttered closed.

"Not in my castle on a cloud."

AN: Holy crap, that chapter was long! I think I'm seriously going to chop them down from here on out. And I can update faster that way too!

I really must express my sincerest gratitude to all my reviewers. I did not expect people to show so much love and support for this story. I really thank you all! You've made this story the most faved Joly fic on this site! (Although there's really only a few of them, and mine is only one of two Joly x Eponine fics that I can tell)

Hahaha, I'm pretty sure this isn't what you guys were thinking when I said Eponine would have to take care of Joly! But when I read about Joly's fear of thunderstorms, I just KNEW I had to include a scene like this.

I also must apologize because at one point a few days ago I meant to replace the original Chapter 2 with an updated version (just some wording/grammar stuff, nothing major), and I accidentally replaced it with the Chapter 2 of another one of my fanfics (OOPS!) I have no idea how many days that was up there before I realized the mistake and fixed it, but to anyone who tried to read Chapter 2 and were super-confused to suddenly be reading a story about Quaxo and Jemima from Andrew Lloyd Weber's Cats, SORRY! Haha.

So … as for future updates, I have to be a little bit honest (DON'T KILL ME!) I'm currently writing two other stories for two other fanfic communities along with this one. (WHAT WAS I THINKING!) I'm going to go where the inspiration takes me, but to be fair to all my readers I'm going to strive to divide my time between all three of them. Since I've neglected my other two stories for quite a while due to this one, I'm pretty sure I'm going to update those first. But … I've finished my last finals and now it's summer, so hopefully now I can update everything in a timely manner! So please don't be mad at me and I promise not to take advantage of your patience. And feel free to drop a review! Love you guys! :)